


Greyscale

by 2Wardens1Blight



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Color Blindness, Happy Avengers, M/M, One Shot, Romantic Soulmates, Stephen Strange Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, infinity war doesn't happen okay, mention of alcoholism, minor destructive behavior, minor violence and strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Wardens1Blight/pseuds/2Wardens1Blight
Summary: Maybe living without a soulmate can be done. Sure, you get really depressed after a while, but you never get your hopes up anymore.Right?





	Greyscale

**Author's Note:**

> In a world where we are born completely color blind, souls are split in pairs. When one feels the touch of their other half, color awakens in their world.  
> Until then, everything is in greyscale.  
> Not beta-read, so please excuse any mistakes! I wrote this instead of sleeping

The world was calm, cool air drifting in through the open door on the balcony in Stephen’s chambers. The Sanctum may reside on a very busy street in New York, but the magic that surrounded the place bathed it in a calm silence. It floated on its own, no outside disturbances reaching inside.

Stephen stretched out onto the bedsheets, moments ticked by as he fought the urge to sleep the day away. His dark cloak drifted in a corner, seemingly blown by the breeze that drifted into the room. Stephen knew it wasn’t, though, as the cloak waved in the opposite direction.

The cloak was a deep shade of grey, one unique to the Doctor’s memory. Everything was saturated in tones of whitewash and greys, as it always had been. He wondered what the cloak’s coloration really was. Was it rich and bold? Or was it colored at all? Was its true nature that of a lonely world, charcoal grey its natural state?

The cloak, as if sensing the scrutiny from the good doctor on the bed, drifted over and used one of its corners to tug on the sheets.

It was time to wake up, he supposed.

He rolled his eyes, rubbing them with the backs of his hands as he sat up and stretched once more.

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

He tried not to dwell on the fact that his world was in greyscale. It was something he had accepted long ago to be a fact of his life, to be alone forever and to protect the multiverse as Sorcerer Supreme.

Color was awakened by touch, and his years spent in the medical field ensured that he had made physical contact with hundreds of people in his lifetime. More than most.

As it was customary to keep covered and to always reveal one’s identity before making skin contact with someone, Stephen had never feared meeting his love only to lose them and never see them again. But, he thought, he would have almost preferred it.

Better to see the beauty of the world in color and to lose it than to have never seen it at all.

He had hoped that Christine was his One. But when they finally spoke of it, took off their gloves and tentatively brushed hands…

The crushed look on Christine’s face had crushed him as well. She loved him, but she would never risk continuing to love him if there was the possibility of either of their Ones meeting them one day. They wouldn’t take that from each other. They had cried, and laughed, and she remains his closest friend. Apart from Wong, of course.

He knew the concept of color. He knew of people who had their other halves and that had tried to explain it to him. He listened to the lectures in school. He had heard the tearful words of the Ancient One as she held his hand, telling him of how he resembled her love from so long ago. Her One that had been killed, and she only knew when her world was once again bled dry of all color. A tear fell down her cheek as she told him that she had had golden hair, and she disappeared into the night and faded from existence.

The curl in his stomach when he met someone new never went away. His soul ached for its final piece.

He toed into his slippers, letting the cloak surround him as he sauntered over to his wardrobe and dressed for the day.

When he went downstairs, he met with Wong and began his day, thinking about what gold might look like.

 

* * *

 

Tony grunted as his suit, along with himself, was crushed into the asphalt. The grey alien above him gurgled, clawing at his chest in desperate swipes. He blasted it in the chest and it exploded with thick splatters of black spreading across the front of his chest plate.

“Friday, what the fuck is Rogers doing? Steve, I thought I told you to hold these things off while I went to destabilize the hive!” The comm was dead, only static replied.

“Shit. Shit!” He stumbled to his feet, blasting away at the various grotesque creatures that scrambled across the New York street. He spotted Natasha strangling an alien that had pinned Steve, but they were half a mile away. His comms must have been busted. He was beginning to be overwhelmed, that one pawn had torn his circuits and left him at 50% power, with nanobots struggling to repair the damage dealt by each alien that got closer and closer to Tony, landing blows in various areas.

Suddenly, a bright line of white sparks whipped across the battlefield, and Dr. Strange swooped in behind him.

“GO, Tony! Hurry, before they gain up again!” The taller man yelled to Tony without looking at him, spinning circles of divine energy and pushing them out to meet the fray of pawns gurgling and scrambling towards them.

“Got it, doc!”

 

* * *

 

They won the fight. They always did, but this week had been particularly tough for Tony. This fight only served to exhaust him further, and he rested in the med bay of Avengers Tower.

He sighed and looked down, black seeping through the soft white bandages across his chest. Red, his mother had told him. Blood was red.

She had been going over color with him, light grey eyes a stark contrast to his father’s deep charcoal. He had asked he what color they were, and his mother said that Howard’s eyes were brown, just like Tony’s. Hers were blue, and he had always wanted to see.

Her favorite color was red. Red like roses, and her lipstick and her gowns.

They had died a long time ago, and Tony has never seen red, or blue.

He had taken her favorite color as his own. He had never seen it, but when someone said something was red he could imagine her dark lips, her gowns and the bouquets his father had delivered to their home when he had done something to upset her.

Pepper had helped him with his suit designs when it came to color. They had been an item, once. But one day Pepper brought a new hire to the tower, a tall and kind faced man accurately named Happy. Tony gave him a signature grin and reached to shake hands, to be formally acquainted, but the two of them seemed tense.

“Tony…”

Pepper had met Happy at the gates, calm and clinical in her quick handshake as she started rattling off his job duties. She had blinked and stopped dead in her tracks, panic and awe etched into her features. Happy had soft looking brown hair, a warm pink flush to his cheeks and brown eyes. He may have been plain looking to some, but to Pepper he was the first thing she had ever thought truly beautiful.

They had started off awkward. Tony was as calm as always, masking his hurt at being left behind in the world by someone he cared about with snark and humor.

It eventually helped that Pepper’s love for Tony bled into Happy’s love for Tony. It wasn’t peculiar. They shared a soul, after all. Tony being compatible with Happy as friends was inevitable.

From then on, they were his support system. Along with Rhodey, they always had Tony’s back.

Pepper had described red to him and told him that her favorite color was gold. And thus, his suits were painted to match when he came home from being a prisoner of war.

He offered to paint Rhodey’s suit, but the man shrugged and said, “The man behind War Machine can’t see color. Might as well leave it. Besides, you’re the flashy one Tones.” He had laughed, but inside he ached to hear the sadness in Rhodey’s voice. He showed his pain in very different ways than Tony.

He descended into alcoholism and reckless self-sacrifice. Even now, as he has healed and gained new friendships and a team, a family, he remains reserved. He won’t let anyone touch him that was unattached.

He didn’t want to burden another person with Tony Stark being their One. No one deserved that. The suffering that Pepper went through was evidence enough of that.

So, he was notoriously stubborn. That wasn’t news to anyone. But some didn’t take it in stride as others might.

A tall and dark figure strode into the room, confidence and anger oozing from him. Stephen looked pissed, which was not common.

Tony hadn’t missed the longing glances the man had been giving him. He couldn’t miss them. He was too busy staring at him, himself.

“Tony, I know Rogers knows basic field medicine, but I am a doctor. You are seriously injured, please let me examine you. This ridiculousness of only letting paired people that you trust touch you needs to stop. Paired people, sure. But most people you know, you can’t trust them as far as you can throw them! How many doctors do you trust that are paired?!” Stephen began speaking immediately, irritation lacing every word.

“Aw, darling I didn’t know you cared.”

“That’s enough, Tony! You could have died!” Stephen’s hands were shaking even harder than usual, his cool façade fading. “You act like you aren’t worth caring about, but the entire team would be devastated without you. Bruce has been pacing the floor for hours, hoping you can come to your senses and at least let him examine you. He’s not a medical professional, but he can see more than what Steve would.”

“I don’t like being touched.”

“Bullshit. You’re scared, and you can’t accept that the world doesn’t bend to your self-loathing. Please, Tony. You were out for a long time. Let me examine you.” Stephen’s face softened into worry, the strain in his voice evident.

“That’s enough, Strange. I said no. Get out.” Tony wheezed, his vision blurring with strain as he leaned up to look Stephen in the face. He struggled to look stern.

If he was honest, he was terrified. He was terrified of this brilliant, beautiful man. He wasn’t sure if he didn’t want the man burdened by their attachment, or if he was afraid of Stephen not being his One. He felt something for him, something deep. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another person he loves not being the one for him.

He was beginning to think that he was doomed to die alone.

His strain made him tip forward, vertigo spinning his world into one shade of grey as he heard Stephen panic.

“Tony? TONY!”

It all went black.

 

* * *

 

No. No, not like this.

Stephen sobbed as he called for help. “Someone please come in here! NOW! BRUCE, ANYONE!”

The people that had been outside the door scrambled in, panicking at the tone of Stephen’s voice. The usually calm doctor was a mess.

Stephen had caught Tony as he blacked out. The skin of his wrist peeked out from his gloves and brushed Tony’s bare arm.

He was beautiful.

He was dying.

He was Stephen’s One.

He struggled to regain his composure. A dark bruise bloomed on Tony’s torso, erupting under the skin from the strain of sitting forward. The deep purple and blue that showed through his skin startled Stephen, who was expecting more black and grey. “He has internal bleeding! I need a medical team in here immediately, we have to operate, and I can’t do this alone!”

He was completely disoriented. The world was entirely new, brighter and more vibrant than he could have ever imagined. But Tony needed him.

The surgery was relatively painless. They subdued Tony further with anesthetics, and the medical team was able to take over and fix him up since Stephen had kept him stabilized.

Stephen sat at his bedside, eyes drinking in every feature on his face. His skin tone, his soft brown hair and his pink scars that were scattered across his arms and torso from years of experiments and superheroing.

He had shed his gloves completely, his hand reaching up to brush hair from Tony’s forehead. He cradled his uninjured cheek and brushed his thumb across it as he felt a tear fall down his own face.

He was perfect. Stephen had not dared to hope, but deep down he knew that Tony was his One. The man was stubborn and got on his every nerve, but the flip in Stephen’s stomach when Tony laughed at his jokes did not lie. He was smitten.

He was so relieved.

“You can’t get rid of me now, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

Tony was aware of a few things as he came to. The odd pressure in his chest was lighter, and his bandages were new. His head was foggy with sleep, and the light was bright when he attempted to open his eyes.

And a warmth was covering his hand.

Someone was holding his hand.

Immediately, his eyes shot open to his side and he was struck with deafening awe. Stephen was at his bedside, bare hand holding onto Tony’s, only slightly tremoring as the man slept. He was exhausted, every feature on his face relaxed with sleep as he kept vigil beside Tony.

His hair was the same, but the light reflected in his dark locks had brown undertones that Tony couldn’t see before. The streaks of grey seemed shinier, although unchanged. His skin was a soft olive tone, thin fingers covered in pink surgical scars. His tunic was a deep blue, and his cloak was a gorgeous shade of red. It waved around on his shoulders almost happily, content as its master.

Tony’s heart felt like a rag that was being squeezed tight, wrung out in his chest. He could never remember a time where he felt so happy and free.

He tilted his hand up, capturing the other man’s fingers in his own. Stephen shifted, a small noise escaping his throat as he slowly awakened.

“Nnh… Tony?” his voice caught in his throat as Stephen’s eyes fluttered open.

They were blue.

Tony burst into tears, overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the world as it was meant to be seen. And seeing his other half in color.

“Oh, Tony. Shh, I know. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to get through to you sooner, but we’re together now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Stephen bent forward, reclaiming his hold of Tony’s face in a caress.

“You’re so gorgeous. You’re so perfect. Stephen, oh my god Stephen I had hoped so much but I didn’t think I could possibly deserve you.” Tony babbled, a mixture of the medicine still in his system and the shock of his life making him an utter wreck.

Stephen hushed him again, bending down to press a soft kiss to Tony’s lips.

And the dull ache in their chests faded away, their soul bonding together with a soft click.

 

* * *

 

“You owe me, babe.”

“Bucky, no. We didn’t agree on that bet.”

“Stevie, Stephen was the one to initiate contact and they are soul bonded. Tony was passed out, he didn’t break. You lose.”

“I hate you, Buck.”

“Aw, no you don’t, doll.”


End file.
